


The Midnight Show

by moonkid28



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:08:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8133202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonkid28/pseuds/moonkid28
Summary: "I'm sorry Derek, but they didn't make it."He doesn't hate his job, and it's good money, but he's fucking depressed and he still isn't over the fact that they're dead, they're gone, they're not coming back. He hates working the floor and smiling at people and he hates being too exhausted to write and he hates the fact that he can hear a laugh that sounds achingly like Dex's--Fuck.





	1. Chapter 1

_Your mothers… I’m sorry, Derek, but they didn’t make it._

  
Didn’t make it.

  
Jeez, what bullshit.

  
Everything seemed to be pretty much a blur, after that. His mother’s agent from the modeling agency came by with his condolences and a last check, as well as a few of her colleagues and friends who’d ridden with him in the limo, weeping for Yanaha and telling him “what a great friend she had been, and the best talent in the agency,” and more bullshit for him to comfort a bunch of strangers about. The smiled, a little watery, patted his face, and told him if he weren’t so built, they’d offer him a place. Backhanded compliments, the industry’s specialty.

  
Lawyers came by as well, talking about things he felt too empty to understand; they seemed to get it, that he couldn’t process anything right now. They also looked a little disappointed.

 _Probably wishing I had my mother’s grit_.

He couldn’t catch a damn break anywhere. No, he didn’t have his Ammi’s brains, or the way she could push through anything. No, he didn’t have his Ma’s body, or hireabillity, or skill with designing, or anything. He was a hockey jock without a team and a poet without any heart to write and it sucked. He was a kid. His moms were dead. He’d walked around the Manhattan loft like a zombie, numb and listless, until one of his Ma’s coworkers had brought around a casserole, and then he’d broke down in the kitchen, crying, screaming, over a glass pyrex dish of broccoli cheese rice.

  
The casseroles made it too real. He had twelve in the fridge by the end of a week, and ate almost none of them.

 

* * *

  
“—and of course, the heritage clause, where you receive your money upon your thirtieth birthday—“

  
“Wait, what?” Derek asked, sitting up from his chair.

  
The lawyer across from him looked startled: he hadn’t said much during the entire reading of his mothers’ wills. This was new, and judging by the terror on the young woman’s face, a little scary.

He probably looked crazy—he hadn’t shaved in a week, he was only wearing a pair of his Ammi’s sweatpants, and the look in his eyes was likely similar to the one he’d once worn on the ice.

  
“Heritage clause,” she squeaked. “It’s always been in your moms will! Set you up with a decent apartment somewhere in New York, enough cash for you to last while you look for a job, and then c-c-c-close all their—their accounts until your thirtieth birthday, upon which all accounts fold into one big inheritance account…! It’s, uh, somewhere upwards of five million dollars, with your—with Yanaha’s clothing line and Amal’s firm continuously producing a similar cash flow to the one they produce right now, and counting on interest, your fund should well exceed that amount, and, uh, it’s projected to at least double, if not—uh, m-more…?”

  
“I’m— I don’t care about the money, not really-- but-- I have to move? What the fuck! No, no, there has to be something-- I've lived here my whole life!" Derek said, hurt flooding through his voice like a dam had been broken.

The lawyer looked both frightened and pitying, and somehow, that combination was worse than anything, and he slumped down, covering his face with a hand.

  
"When do we start looking for a place?" he muttered half heartedly.

  
"After your mothers funerals," she said softly, and he sighed, quiet.

  
"So tomorrow?"

"So tomorrow."

"Fantastic."

* * *

 

"So this is your family?" Lardo asked quietly, arm tucked into Nursey's own. He nodded tightly. "Half of it, anyways-- or a third, if you count my gracious sperm donor. I don't. And even that-- some of Ammi's family didn't approve of her... lifestyle, shall we say, so they aren't here. Mostly cousins here, her mom and dad disowned her. Some friends. Coworkers."

  
She nodded, squeezing his arm a bit. "Family member en route."

  
Nursey nodded grimly, then pasted on an appropriate look, turning without releasing her from his arm. He was trembling ever so slightly, but unless you were holding onto him as Lardo was, you would think nothing was wrong with him.

She knew, though, better than anyone-- this was Nursey falling apart.

 


	2. Chapter 2: Get it Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nursey's struggling, but he's trying, and Lardo is a good friend.

“This one?”

  
“I’m the son of a model, just because she's dead doesn't mean I don't have any style,” he said a little viciously. The lawyer tensed up in surprise, inching back a bit.

Lardo snapped her laptop closed, eyes lighting angrily. “Nurse, outside, now.”

“What- why--”

“Twenty-eight! Now!”

Nursey jumped, the response to her “manager voice” near pavlovian at this point, and shuffled outside, grumbling under his breath. She stepped out onto the balcony behind him, sliding the glass door closed as he plopped down on a deck chair.

“You have _got_ to stop being an asshole, Nursey,” Lardo warned. “We're trying to help and you're being, like, a metaphorical cum stain in my sheets, brah. You aren't… I know your parents are dead, but you're better than this. They'd be pissed to see you like this, I know it. You had some of the best manners on my team while I was there. Act like it. Not to be, like, super stereotypical or something, but honor your name and shit, bro.”

She looked at him sternly until he broke and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Yeah, you… you're right, you're right, Lards. Fuck.” He gave her a pitiful look and she sighed, opening her arms.

“C’mere, you sad fuck, bring it in.”

He scooted to the edge of his chair and buried his face in her stomach, wrapping his arms around her little waist and squeezing a little. Only then did Nursey realise he was shaking, and squeezed Lardo tighter.

“Hair?”

“S’cool,” he mumbled, and instantly she was scratching softly at his head, just along the scalp.

“We're gonna get you an apartment, Nurse. It's not gonna be everything, but i'll help you out, okay? You're not gonna be at a motel for six years. Just… work with me.”

“Alright, Lards.” He sighed, pulling back a little, and Lardo gave him a half smile, yanking one of his curls. “Alright.”

_/ _X_ \\_

In the end, they did find an apartment.

“It’s out in Sunset Park,” Lardo called over to Nursey, who was sleepily making coffee in the kitchen.

She was scrolling through, some site tucked into the corner of his couch in duck pajama pants and one of his old t shirts. The shirt had a hole in it and she wasn't wearing a bra, which meant he could see a bit of skin that was bright blue, for some reason, which lead him to two conclusions: one, Lardo stood under the spray of water aimlessly contemplating life until her shower playlist stopped rather than actually scrubbing down, or two, she hadn't showered in a while, because she hadn't painted over his house the few days that she'd been here. Both situations he understood and appreciated, because he couldn't really remember the last time he'd properly showered.

“Nursey.”

“Huh?”

“Sunset Park.”

“Oh. I don't go out there much, unless i'm riding the D,” Nursey said. He came back with two mugs, handing one off to Lardo and peering over her shoulder. “I went to Thanh Da for a birthday dinner once though. Good phô.”

It seemed fairly within Nursey’s style-- and it was about 1,700 dollars a month rent, which stayed within the allowance he got while he tried to find a job. It was bland, but not ugly, and it was a third floor apartment with nice windows and a decent kitchen. Everything was in white. “A new canvas,” Lardo said lightly, and for the first time in days, Nursey smiled.

“You'll help me decorate?” he asked.

“I'll even give you one of my paintings, dude.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that is chapter two. I promise that Nursey will NOT be sad and angry the entirety of this fic, it's just for these first few chapters. He even laughs in the next chapter.
> 
> Also: i'm sorry this took so long! I'm applying to a lot of colleges and scholarships and i'm hella busy. Hopefully in the coming months my schedule frees up, but that probably won't be until December or January. :(
> 
> This is a lot of exposition and short chapters right now but it's setting up to be one of my longer fics, and as I get used to writing in this 'verse, the chapters will get longer.
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr! I'm @hoenursey on there and i'm trying to put together a playlist for when Nursey actually does become a stripper.
> 
> Tchau for now!


	3. Move-in Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much what's on the tin.

They stole a couch.

  
It was easier than Nursey had expected, actually. They'd driven up to NYU in Lardo’s truck to find her friend for cheap appliances and roamed around the residence grounds until they spotted a couch with a little sign taped to it.

  
_Free for students!_

  
Lardo looked at him, and Nursey glanced from her, to the couch, to the street and back to her.

  
“Well,” she said lightly, “They didn't say students from where.”

  
“Or ‘no former students’,” he agreed.

  
They looked at each other for a long, long moment.

  
“Are we stealing this couch?”

  
“If you've got enough room in your bed for a sectional.”

  
“I've got rope. We can stack.”

  
Nursey was already getting out of the car.

  
They had maybe a couple pieces to go when someone passing by stopped them.

  
“Hey! Good to see someone's taking that couch,” he said, smiling, jogging in place.

  
“Yeah, I needed it,” Nursey said. He hoped it would be the end of it, but jogger-guy didn't seem to.

  
“I don't think i've seen you guys around! What're your majors?”

  
“He's a writing major, I'm a studio art and arts management major,” Lardo said shortly.

  
“Oh, cool! God, I'm by that building all the time, I think i'd notice you,” jogger-guy said, smiling cheerfully.

  
Nursey shot Lardo a look, and she shared it with him, and then burst out with--

  
“Oh, my god, dude? Are you, like, hitting on me? I am _clearly_ not giving off the vibe, and i'm, like, here with my boyfriend. That is mad creepy of you, did you, like, skip out on the consent lecture? God. That is so. fucking. insensitive.”

  
Jogger-guy went pale, backing away and apologizing profusely. “I didn't-- I mean, of course! I’m--”  
As Nursey put an arm around Lardo, the dude stumbled, and when he raised a brow he backed away faster, turning away and jogging in the opposite direction.

Nursey subtly put his hand out for an underhanded high five, and Lardo quietly slapped it.

  
“Get that shit the fuck in there so we can get out of this place,” Lardo muttered when he was out of earshot, and he obeyed as fast as possible, then jumped into the cab and let her speed off.

  
Nursey glanced over at her once they were safely out of the residential areas, considering.

  
“How did you know he was hitting on you?” he said finally, after a minute of staring.

  
Lardo shrugged. “It was on a whim, mostly, but he frowned when you talked the first time and smiled when I did, so it wasn't much of a reach.”

  
Nursey whistled, impressed. “Never fail to surprise me, brah.”

  
They did end up getting some appliances from Lardo’s friend-- a microwave, a toaster oven, a blender-- but there wasn't any room for the refrigerator in the bed because the sectional was so large.

  
“It was ugly anyways,” Lardo said. Nursey looked a little defeated, but he conceded, and they drove back down to the city with quiet music playing.

  
It was some time around eleven when they finished moving the couch and installing the few appliances into the apartment, mostly because neither of them could figure the shit out and they were lazy and neither of them really wanted to do it.

  
“Wanna have a housewarming party when we get you all moved in?” Lardo asked offhandedly, laying back on the newly pilfered couch. Nursey snorted.

  
“And have people laugh at me and joke about how the rich boy’s getting a taste of his medicine, how he's gonna ‘live like the rest of us’?” Nursey said, fingerquoting. “Chyeah, sure. I'm pretty sure even Bits would make fun of me, Lards. I think i'll pass, if you'll excuse my manners ‘n shit.”

  
Lardo’s eyes went soft and sympathetic. It burned, and he had to look away from her, before the pang in his chest turned into a full blown ache.

  
“You know they aren't like that.”

  
“No, I don't know. I don't know what most people are like, actually, because I don't bother to get to know them, because I know they won't want to stay.”

  
Lardo only sighed this time. “I'm calling Shits up,” she warned.

  
“Fine. But only Shitty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nursey, babe, no one would laugh at you.
> 
> A more lighthearted chapter before I throw angst at y'all left and right. I'm still trying to form this story in my head-- how to give it a happy ending, how to slide more of the SMH team in there, etc., so the chapters might seem a little aimless and filler-esque. I think Nursey is going to get his stripping job within the next two chapters or so, however.
> 
> As usual, follow me on tumblr @ hoenursey.tumblr.com to yell at me abt these dumb boys and tell me to write bc i'm lazy and a piece of turkey

**Author's Note:**

> I promise this will get less depressing. I swear to god, it gets less sad.
> 
> If you aren't already, follow me on tumblr @ hoenursey.tumblr.com, where I post update notifications, headcanons, and little ficlets, as well as scream very loudly about a bunch of fucking side characters!!


End file.
